Hullo

I was asked if Harry would get a friend and he won't.

I realise I have to tell you some details about Harry to understand fully, so here we go:

Harry is basically ignored by his housemates. If they do talk to him it's teasing.

He doesn't have friends as the other houses are a little uncertain about him now that he's in the evil house.

People generally have the idea that Harry can do anything and is oh so good and grand, so they overestimate him and his need for socialising and so he falls behind, so to speak.

I am considering making a few chapters of Harry's POV so you can have some insight... but... who knows.

Chapter 4

"No one knows anything," Minerva exclaims, throwing her hands in the airs as symbol of her frustrations. No one says much; there's little to say. I note Quirrel is withdrawn, head bend downward and he stares at his own fidgeting hands. Someone nudges me and I look up. I realise Minerva is looking at me and I frown at her. Once more I state that none of the Slytherins did it and their relationship to the boy passive and not aggressive. She doesn't entirely believe me, but Albus does.

The meeting ends with little to conclude, except to ensure better wards at Hogwarts and Albus tells me to arrange times for the boy to contact me throughout the day to show he is safe. It's a feeble attempt, but perhaps it'll help. I look over at the DADA Professor and wonder. It all seems as a too big coincidence, the stone, Potter, the strange and stuttering DADA Professor... I've lived long enough to know that things are rarely a coincidence when you mix certain ingredients.

I enter the hospital wing just after dinner to deliver the good news to Potter. While I have no intentions of his death and I am still bothered by having to deal with more of him than I already am. He's a constant reminder of a past that I want to desperately forget. Never mind that now, I grumble to myself.

Potter is awake when I enter. Pompfrey, it seems, has just tended him and he looks much better than earlier. I suspect he will soon be released. I regard him for a few moments and he regards me in return. The passive pretence he usually wears is gone and he looks tired and worried. There's a constant crease of his forehead, making him look like his father when thinking about something. I try not to grind my teeth as I open my mouth to speak.

"You will report to me everyday throughout the day," I tell him and his face falls for an instant before showing a second of dead acceptance. I snarl at him and inform him that I don't have to take this role upon me, but he should be grateful I am. He apologises, shocked, and looks pathetic.

We agree that he will attend breakfast, lunch and dinner all the way through, not arriving 15 minutes before it closes, and also I will meet him in the common room approx. Two hours after dinner.

He accepts the terms, seeming a little grateful that he won't have to see me in person except than one time in the evening. I can relate.

"Sir?" He calls before I leave the hospital. I turn to him, almost resigned. "Madam Pompfrey said I should ask you, my Head of House..." he continues, feebly, "if there's a way to protect myself against it happening again?" I consider his question. It's a valid point and the boy will have to protect himself. If he is supposed to fight the Dark Lord later on he might as well start practicing now. I inform him that I will write a list for him to look at. He looks at me gratefully and I nod to him in parting.

***

It turns out I am not the only one the brat has asked regarding self-defence. Minerva informs that the boy has asked her and so do Flitwick and Quirrel. I'm surprised when Albus rejects the idea of teaching the boy to defend his person, but relents when Minerva glowers. He allows us to write down books we consider relevant and give it to him, but not to strain him.

***

I watch him at breakfast, lunch and dinner to see if he shows up. He does, I am pleased to see. I had, somewhat, expected him to not show. There's already been so much trouble with him and I feel like I am neglecting my other Slytherin students due to the brat. Typical for a Potter to steal all the attention; I tell myself to assign a meeting with Draco to hear how he's doing. His work is okay, but not good enough. He relies too much on the Malfoy attitude. I will have to remind him to use his mind more.

I take my, now customary, round through the dungeons, but spy nothing in particular, and then proceed to the common room. Potter is there, of course, knowing it is time for me to see if he's well. He meets my gaze patiently and I sneer at him. He's by the corner of the room, reading in a big book by himself. Several other books stick out of his bag and I spy a book about proper decorum and writing skills. It explains why his writing has improved. At least he's doing something about it, I'm pleased to see, but I don't let him know.

I move onwards and check on the other students, but everyone seems to be doing well enough and so I return to my quarters to study a bit to myself. I have ideas that need to be looked into.

***

There are no new attacks on Potter, luckily, leaving me free to worry about my other students as well as my suspicions about Quirrel. Potter, in turn, seems to be avoiding me as much as possible and I try not to wonder about what the child is concocting now. I doubt the child can stand not being seen all the time, so I assume that he'll figure out something to draw attention to his self.

I've asked Draco to come by when he got the time and I am pleased to see him take me up on the offer.

"Hello," Draco enters my office and I wave for him to take a seat, ignoring his lack of proper title.

"How are you?" I question and listen to him talk about school, teachers, children and whatnot; his father as well. The boy is going home this Christmas. They're apparently going to France; I shouldn't be surprised, though. Once every year they go to France; it's been a while since they were there last and it makes me wonder what changed.

Draco seems to be bothered by something, but doesn't seem to want to voice it aloud. I prod a little more and he confesses that he's worried about Potter. I groan in resignation. Does everything have to be about that boy?

"It's just that he's always studying and I study as well, but I think he gets better grades than me," Draco explains with a whine. The Malfoy attitude shines through and I roll my eyes mentally.

"Draco, Potter is a lonely, little boy. He got nothing else to do. You exceed in so much else," I inform him and the boy glows. Potter studies all the time, even at breakfast, lunch and dinner, which really pisses me off, but I am loath to talk to the boy more than I already have. I just need to stay clear of him and then I can be happy. Besides, the boy is studying, not reading mindless books. I tell Draco to use his good breeding and be a proper Slytherin instead of a jealous boy. Competing against someone like Potter is silly, since Draco can do so much better. I tell him that, too.

Draco feels much better after the conversation and so do I. It's just Potter; a little harmless boy. He cannot hurt me or bother me, I tell myself. He won't hurt or bother anyone if we leave the child alone. Let him study as he wish and disappear in the shadows.

***

Dumbledore is anxious about the child. Of course he is. My few weeks of freedom have ended and now everything is about the child again. He's staying at Hogwarts, I'm loath to realise, and Albus worries that Potter is studying too hard. He wants me to inform the child; naturally.

I am not in the best of moods when I call the child to my office and that he stands in front of my desk with a perfect stance and a blank expression; I am bothered to be unable to read his expression, but perhaps it is better this way; the merest hint of arrogance and I will give the boy detentions for the rest of the year! This passiveness is good; it keeps him from looking stupid and it doesn't bother me.

"Why are you staying over Christmas?" I ask aloud and a flicker of emotion appears briefly in his eyes. I am positive it was a hint of amusement; he probably thinks it's funny that he can stay and bother me; little nuisance. I decide not to pursue the emotion as I tell myself I am not interested, so I let it be

"I thought of studying, Professor," he replies, dutifully.

"The Headmaster believes you study too much," I reply coldly and am rewarded with some kind of emotion that I couldn't care less about.

"I am not under any kind of stress, Sir," he says. I wonder what he knows about stress. He's a bloody first-year. I scowl at him.

"I think we, the Professors, are better at judging that," I snap and he almost flinches. I smirk at him, feeling a little better by the action.

"Yes, sir," he replies, shocking me. He's being very non-difficult. I stare at him with narrowed eyes, wondering if I should check his mind. His eyes lower to the ground humbly, but I briefly wonder if he knows about Legilimency since he always seems to be avoiding my gaze. I doubt it, though.

"Nevertheless, the Headmaster believes you're better off if you go home," He looks up briefly, seeming to consider the idea. "Surely Potter you're not so attached to the school to be unable to leave?" I sneer mockingly and a strange expression cross his features too briefly to really consider it. My first idea is that it is regret. The boy loves to study so much? I wonder if I should just let him, but I am so disinclined to spend my holiday with him. It would mean almost 2 weeks of Potter-freedom.

"I will speak with them," he replies, giving nothing away. I tell him to do it quickly and he leaves after that. I massage my temples, just wishing for easier children. Or children I don't really hate, anyway. So much easier if he wasn't in Slytherin, I decide and wonder why he was sorted into the house in the first place. He's not entirely cunning; I know that from catching him after visiting the kitchen. The boy probably couldn't even lie to save his life anyway.

***

Potter's family is apparently going to do business over the vacation, something about drills and whatnot, and the boy told me that his family asked him to stay at Hogwarts through the vacation. Great. The boy doesn't look sad and I am sure he was probably promised tons of presents to get through it easier. How disgusting to fawn over the child so much. At least I can claim that the boy has learned some decorum from being a Slytherin.

***

The Christmas vacation sets in and all the Slytherins leaves, I am pleased to note, except Potter, which I am annoyed to accept. I inform him that through the vacation I will only check up to him at mealtime. Between those he can do whatever he wishes, within boundaries.

***

"Mr. Potter, looking forward to Christmas?" Albus questions the boy at lunch on one of the first days back. He boy looks up at the Headmaster with almost practised calm. Usually the students are too speechless to reply when the Headmaster focuses on them, but the boy seem to expect it, probably. Albus seem so fond of the child and I wouldn't be surprised if they spend time together for some strange reason. The death of the Potters always seemed to touch Albus more than many others.

"Yes, sir," he replies with a calm voice, his eyes never entirely meeting the Headmasters. I wonder at that briefly, but let it go, assuming he's just shy in the presence of the Headmaster.

"Lots of presents?" The Headmaster continues with a twinkle and the boy smiles almost forcefully. He nods.

"It's going to be a great Christmas," Potter informs and the Headmaster nods at him. I note, briefly, that he didn't answer the question. Minerva looks at the boy with doting eyes and I scowl at her. I hope she won't turn this Christmas into a way for her to bond with the child. He will have no respect for the rules if he's too good friends with his superiors.

***

"It appears you were right, Albus," Minerva says when the children have left the table. I look enquiringly at the Headmaster, who chuckles.

"Of course, Minerva. They're family, how could I be wrong on this?" He replies and I frown at their conversation. I, and Albus should as well, know that family doesn't equals love. Minerva notices my curious expression and explains how dreadful the muggles had seemed when she had observed them first. She's pleased to have been wrong, since nothing seems out of the ordinary with the boy as such. Yes, I note. Potter has a doting family and everything is great. I suppress the bitter feeling inside of me.

***

Apparently Potter is sneaking around at night. I've been loose with the wards through the vacation, since only Potter was there and I couldn't be bothered. Albus informs me of the child's excursions and that he, Potter, has found that blasted mirror. I sigh, pinch the bridge of my nose, and hope that the old coot doesn't expect to me to have a hearty talk about Potter staying away from it.

He also informs me that the boy has received something of his father's as a gift. I know what it is; it's that damn cloak. I glare at the Headmaster, asking him if that was really wise. The Headmaster twinkles at me and says that it's Christmas and we can afford leniency. I doubt him, though. Potter's father would forget whatever rules set were he suddenly treated with leniency or if too much time passed. The brat will do the same if we're too lenient.

I know Albus talked with the boy regarding the mirror and left the issue with the cloak to me. I am loath to speak with the child, but I have to before he thinks he can get away with anything. I catch him after breakfast one day and tell him to follow me to a nearby classroom. No need to drag him with me to the dungeons for this. He seems uncertain, but confidently meets my gaze. He sudden confidence annoys me and I'm sure he's already using that blasted cloak. It has made him cocky.

He's surprised that I know about the cloak and forgets his manners when he asks where it came from. I tell him the Headmaster gave it to him; surely he should have known that?

I'd like to think he's less confident after my exposure of his future plans, but I cannot be sure. I just have to pray to whatever gods there are to keep the child safe lest I be pestered with more visits to the hospital wing and whatnot.

I check his mind briefly to see what he's planning, but he gasps in pain and I retreat, shocked. He looks uncertain and a little angry for a second before proclaiming a headache. I stare after him as he retreats. I wonder if it's a coincidence or if he knew I was entering his mind. I am reluctant to, but I will keep a closer eye on him and see if it was a coincidence or not. I am not sure what else it could be, since the boy isn't studying such art. I know there are no books on it in the library.

***

I don't run into Potter except at mealtime. He doesn't eat, eating at different times, but when asked to join in he takes an apple and puts it on his table. A little difficult on that point, but Madam Pompfrey assure me (as if I cared) and the Headmaster that he looks healthy and the Headmaster informs that the boy makes his own dish in the kitchen. Elf-food is apparently not good enough, I must assume.

Besides that I note that he only speaks if asked and otherwise keeps to himself. Sometimes, and I suspect the other's feels the same way, I forget he's there after a while. I wonder if he does it on purpose, but after having watched him while the others lose interest I must conclude that the boy is simply not fascinating enough to focus on longer than necessary. I rejoice in that fact. Both his parents were opposite and were attracting people with shocking ease.

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